


Teacher's Pet

by towblerone



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Consensual Underage Sex, F/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3101798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towblerone/pseuds/towblerone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and Professor Hornigold have certain…feelings for each other. The only problem is, it has to stay secret because he’s your teacher. Modern AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to make it very clear that just because I am writing a story about a teacher/student relationship, this does not mean I approve of them. I do not, in any way, condone any form of romantic and/or sexual relationship between a student and their teacher, as it has dire legal consequences and can have very serious emotional repercussions. DO NOT DATE YOUR TEACHER/STUDENT. IT IS ILLEGAL. If you really like them, wait until they/you graduate.

It is the beginning of your junior year in high school, and you sorely miss the summer. Those three glorious months of doing nothing but lazing around watching movies and eating snacks all day.

Twirling your pencil between your fingers in one hand, the other fussing with the hem of your school uniform’s blue plaid skirt, you sigh heavily. You hate school.

Sure, you’re in your favorite class (Literature with Professor Hornigold), but it still has its slow, boring days.

Your class has just begun to read Beowulf and you could not find one interesting thing about it.

As he drones on and on about the gruesome battle between Beowulf and Grendel, your eyes wander up and down his body. It’s hidden beneath a navy button-up shirt, but you can tell he’s got some serious muscle going on.

Mostly because you’ve seen it first hand.

—

Towards the end of your previous year, you and Professor Hornigold - or Ben, as you like to call him when no one else was around - had formed a strange sort of friendship. The sort of friendship that a really friendly and casual teacher would have with his student.

Nothing to worry about.

Hell, sometimes, he’d even stay after school with some of the students and they’d all watch some TV in the teacher’s lounge. It’s mostly for the students who miss their bus or whose parents can’t pick them up until later, but he welcomes any students, and you usually stick around just for his company.

A lot of girls in the school have a small crush on him. Mostly due to his incredible good looks and surprisingly attractive accent. And while you admit that it certainly is a factor in your crush, it’s not the only thing you like about him.

He’s devilishly charming, even without trying, and of course, smart enough to hold an intelligent conversation. A huge difference between him and the boys in your class.

The Professor often favors the girls in his class, though you’re not sure if he’s quite aware. Speaking to them gently, making sure not to raise his voice unless it’s absolutely called for. And if a girl started to tear up in front of him, he was always quick to comfort them.

This was another part that fuels the immature schoolgirl crushes.

But one day, you’d stayed after school and found yourself to be the only one there, besides Ben.

"Looks like it’s just the two of us this afternoon, eh?" he said with a friendly smile on his handsome face.

"Looks like it," you replied, feeling your heart racing. At this point, you hadn’t had any classes with him, and though he knew your name, he didn’t often acknowledge you. The fact that you were getting some alone time with him excited you.

This time, he’d brought a few movies, and he let you choose which one to watch. You knew he’d always been a fan of medieval-set movies, so you pointed to the DVD case with Heath Ledger’s face on it, the words "A Knight’s Tale" plastered just below it. He whispered a small, triumphant “yes!” under his breath.

"This is one of my favorites," he told you as he put the disc in the player and flopped onto the soft couch next to you. He was sitting quite close to you; close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him and smell the aftershave he must have used that morning.

You hadn’t planned on paying much attention to the movie anyway.

About an hour passed, and Ben leaned down to reach into his bag. He pulled out a green glass bottle. Beer.

"Don’t tell anyone," he said to you with a sly wink.

"My lips are sealed," you said with a giggle.

He didn’t offer you any (not that you would have taken it if he had). He popped the cap off and took a long gulp. You felt your heart quickening as his throat undulates with each swallow.

You wanted nothing more than to kiss that broad neck of his.

Another few minutes passed, and Ben put his arm on the back of the couch behind you. You had to purse your lip to keep from grinning from ear to ear.

You decided to test the waters a bit. Slowly, you inched closer, making sure not to do it all at once. Every couple of minutes, you subtly scooted closer to him. He didn’t seem to notice yet, so you finally closed the gap between you so that you had your side pressed against him.

He shifted in his seat, so you knew that he’d noticed, but didn’t shy from the contact. You reveled in his warmth. Ben chuckled at a particularly funny scene, the sound deep and hearty.

He took another sip of his beer and a drop stayed on the corner of his mouth, unnoticed by him.

That just wouldn’t do.

You leaned closer against his chest. His gaze flicked from the TV screen to your face, eyes questioning, but he barely had time to speak before you’d pressed your lips against the corner of his mouth, kissing the drop of beer from his lips.

As you had expected him to, he flinched at the contact and shot backwards. His hands were on your shoulders instantly, and he made sure to hold you at arm’s length. His brown eyes searched yours, shocked.

"What are you doing?" he hissed. "We could both get in serious trouble!”

Ah, but he hadn’t said he didn’t like it. You noticed that straight away.

"Nobody else is here, Professor,” you purred. You gently pried his hands from your shoulders and moved forward, kissing him again. “No one will see us.”

At first, he was stiff underneath your lips, completely shocked and aware that what the two of you were doing was very, very illegal. But as you dug your fingers into his silky black hair and massaged his scalp, his eyes closed, and he hesitantly returned the kiss.

He’d given in much easier than you’d planned.

He was gentle and soft at first, but it steadily escalated into a searing, intense kiss, and you both had to break apart every few seconds to catch your breath. 

Ben seemed lost on where he should place his hands. His fingers ghosted along your back, barely touching you. But you wanted more, you wanted those hands to touch you everywhere, anywhere.

Without breaking your kiss, you grabbed hold of his wrists and brought them closer to your body. You eased them down the curve of your waist until he stopped at your hips. You slid your hand up and between his thighs, and you eagerly rubbed the growing bulge in his pants.

He gasped, and his grip on your hips tightened, which caused your skirt to bunch up under his fingers to expose more of your bare legs and just a glimpse of your undergarments. Sweat began to drip down the valley of your breasts, so you leaned back, unbuttoned your uniform shirt, and tossed it aside, revealing your lacy gray-and-blue bra.

You loosened his grip on you just long enough for you to crawl atop his lap so you straddled him and pressed your throbbing center against him. He was fully hard now; even beneath the layers of clothing that separated you, you could tell.

You rolled your hips forward, generating a pleasurable friction against both of your groins. Ben hissed through his teeth under you, eyes fluttering.

You briefly wondered how long it had been since he’d had such intimate contact with a woman. He wasn’t married, that much you knew. And if he had a girlfriend, he probably wouldn’t have even let it get this far.

Ben was getting more and more comfortable with your body and what you were doing to him. He no longer hesitated, only acted. A hand snaked under your skirt and wiggled a few fingers past the elastic waistband.

He swiped a single finger past your folds, finding that you were soaking wet. He drew lazy circles around your sensitive pearl. You tossed your head back, exposing your neck to his hungry lips, and you bit your own lip to keep from moaning aloud. He repeated his actions with eyes blazing up at you as you writhed on him.

Already, you found yourself approaching an orgasm far too quickly, and though your body craved the ecstasy his fingers were promising, you didn’t want this to be over so fast.

You grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand out, brought it to your mouth, and used your tongue to clean his wet fingers. He watched, transfixed and thoroughly aroused. You wiggled out of your panties, tossing them onto the seat next to you.

When you had finished, you hastily trailed your hand down his chest and to his pants. You unbuttoned them as fast as you could with one hand, pulled down his undergarments, and allowed his erection to spring out.

At the sight of his impressive size, you couldn’t help but moan loudly in anticipation. You gripped it in your hand and give it a slow stroke. Ben’s hips buck upward into your hand, clearly seeking out more contact.

You indulged him for a while, but eventually removed your hand so you could position yourself above him. You sat on top of him, allowing his appendage to slide back and forth between your folds, covering him in your wetness, before you finally sank down on top of him.

You sighed and buried your face in the crook of his neck, adoring the way he groaned and cupped your rear with both hands. He nuzzled into your shoulder as you nipped at the skin behind his ear.

The feeling of him filling you was amazing. You’d had sex before, but you had never been on top of your partner, and the new angle brought new pleasures to you. You braced yourself by placing your hands on the back of the couch, and with a flex of your hips, you rose, almost completely removing yourself, and then you sank back down on him, sighing in his ear.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hot breath tickling your throat. As you repeated your motion, Ben thrusted upward to meet you, and you felt yourself melting in the immense bliss you felt as his hips met yours.

Due to the teasing and the sheer anticipation, your orgasm was still near at hand. You used one hand to travel downward and flick at your clit, and that was enough to drive you over the edge. Crying out, you felt your entire body being enveloped in pure ecstasy as you came around him. He moaned raggedly when you tightened considerably around him, and began to thrust faster and faster into you, only bringing you more pleasure and drawing out your orgasm.

A few more hard bucks of his hip and Ben reached his own orgasm. His forehead rested on your collarbone as he cried out your name several times while he spilled himself inside of you.

You came down from your high, panting and sweating. You could feel his cum leaking out from between your legs, and you silently thanked your mother that you were on birth control.

When he withdrew from your body, you rolled off of him and curled up against his side. The two of you lay there for a long while, spent but satisfied.

But soon, Ben came to his senses and realized what you two had just done. He sat up, groaning and covering his face in shame.

"I fucked a student," he said. His voice sounded so hopeless and resentful. "I fucked a student.”

You felt a bit of guilt yourself. You hadn’t really intended it to go as far as sex. Just a bit of making out and heavy petting. But it had felt right to you, at the time.

Then again, you weren’t the one who would get in trouble if anyone ever found out.

Since you were only sixteen at the time, and he was in his early thirties, it would have been considered statutory rape (though you always found that law ridiculous; a girl knows when she wants it and when she doesn’t). You would be seen as the victim.

But Ben would lose his job. He could go to prison. He’d never be allowed to work as a teacher again.

"Professor…" you said, trying to calm him. Comfort him. Something.

He was quiet. Very quiet. For a long time. You began to worry, but just as you had, he stood up, zipped his pants and grabbed his movie from the DVD player. He put it back in his bag and sighed deeply.

"I won’t tell anyone," you mumbled, trying to reassure him. "As long as you don’t tell anyone either."

Ben rubbed his face, emotionally and physically exhausted. But he nodded in agreement.

"That would probably be best," he said. He looked at you, and he must have seen your dejected expression. He stepped forward, intending to reassure you, but at the last minute he thought better of it and stayed where he was.

"I, uh…I have to go," he informed you, and left without another word.

Though you understood why he was acting the way he was, it still hurt a bit. But you tried not to take it personally. You began to put your uniform shirt back on and gather your bag, when you looked at the couch and grimaced at the…evidence…of your and Ben’s liaison. You sighed, and went off to the bathroom to get some tissues to clean it so that other teachers wouldn’t panic over a couch covered in semen.

—

It had been weeks since your sexual encounter, and Professor Hornigold was doing everything in his power to avoid you like the plague. Sometimes you’d catch him alone in the hallway, and whether you had intended to talk to him or not, he would see you, get terribly flustered, and dart away.

It sucked.

You’d thought to try and catch him by staying after school like he always would, but it turns out he’d gotten another teacher to fill in for him for the time being.

Damn, all you wanted was to talk about it.

However, luck was on your side. You’d overheard him talking to one of the other teachers about the school’s upcoming boy’s Varsity soccer game. It was the biggest game of the season and the team had been practicing overtime for weeks in preparation.

"The team’s great, there’s no way they’ll lose," the other teacher said to him. "Are you going to be at the game?"

"Sure, I’ll be there," Hornigold said.

Aha! This would be your chance. The game was in two days, which was perfect. Plenty of time to plan out what you were going to say to him.

You pulled out your phone and frantically texted your mother to inform her that you would not be there for dinner the night of the game.

This time you’d get him and finally talk to him.

—

The night of the game had finally come, and you’d been sitting on the bleachers for half an hour while your eyes constantly scanned the crown for Hornigold.

Your school’s team was the home team, and for some reason the team had always thought that home games gave them good luck. In that case, it seemed to be true. They were several points in the lead. Good, but you hadn’t really come to see the game.

Finally, you spotted him. He was speaking to a senior, probably asking him about his plans for college. You slipped from your seat in the bleachers and you danced along the shadows to get a bit closer. Once you’d gotten within earshot, what he said gave you your perfect chance.

"I’m gonna grab something at the vending machines, want anything?" Ben asked the senior. The student shook his head in response.

"No, but thanks anyway," he said politely.

"Suit yourself," Ben said with a smile. He turned on his heels and weaved through the crowd, and you pursued, remembering to stay hidden.

He reached the vending machines, and you allowed him to get whatever he came to get before you sneaked up behind him and tapped his shoulder. He looked behind him, and as soon as he recognized you, he jumped violently and scrambled backwards.

"Hi," you said simply. You couldn’t tell if you found his fear amusing or hurtful. His eyes darted back and forth, and he looked for either possible eavesdroppers or an escape. Likely both.

"Uh…hi," he said slowly. "I, um…I should get back to the game-"

"Wait, Professor!" you whine. You reached forward to grab his sleeve, intending to stop him from leaving, but he twitched his arm violently away. You held your hands away in surrender.

"I’m just here to talk," you said slowly. He stared at you warily.

"We should not be alone together," he growled and sped past you. Frantic, you glanced around you to make sure no one else could possibly hear you. You didn’t want it to come to this, but you saw no other way to get him to stay and talk. Lips parted, you begin to yell.

"I’m pregnant!" you shouted at him.

That got his attention. Ben froze in his tracks and fumbled with his bottle of water until he finally dropped it onto the ground. Though you couldn’t see his face, he took a shuddering breath and he looked physically sick. He whirled around to face you and lowered his voice to the quietest whisper.

"Are you fucking serious!?” he hissed at you as he began to break out into a nervous sweat.

God, you hadn’t meant to scare him that badly.

"No, I’m on the pill," you explained calmly. "I’m sorry, but that was my only option. I need to talk to you."

He exhaled, visibly relieved. He swept a hand through his hair and finally relented.

"Fine, you wanna talk? We’ll talk."

"Jesus, finally," you said exasperatedly. "I’m not gonna try and seduce you so you can fucking relax, Professor.”

His eyes rolled, and you could feel the irritation rolling off him in waves.

"Just hurry up and say what you need to say," he snapped.

That hurt. For some unknown reason, the way he said it hurt you so much. And it pissed you off. Your gaze shifted from neutral to furious, and suddenly you couldn’t control your outburst.

"First of all, yes, I may have made the first move," you said, "but you kissed me back."

"I-"

"And when I fucked you, you fucked me right back, you son of a bitch."

"Now wait just a-"

"So don’t you try and act like you’re the innocent one here, Hornigold," you snarl, voice risen to a very threatening volume. "Don’t act like you aren’t also to blame here. Don’t you fucking dare!”

He stared at you, bewildered by your sudden rage. Honestly, you couldn’t really see his expression very well because your burst of emotions had forced angry tears to blur your vision. Distraught by your show of weakness, you blinked them away, and they made streaks down your face. Upon seeing your tears, he softened and nodded, prompting you to speak your mind.

"I’m sorry. Go on."

"Thank you."

Using your sleeve, you wiped your cheeks and continued.

"Look, we both regret what happened. I can understand if your answer is no, really, I can…but…" you trailed off, looking at your feet. "I just want us to forget this shit ever happened. Go back to when we were friends again."

A sigh left his mouth and he shook his head.

"I don’t think we can forget this,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I think we both know that.”

"Can’t we at least try?" you said desperately. You just wanted his company again. You’d do anything.

He stared at you for a long time, your expressions mirrored each other. Sorrow and regret, mostly, with pain buried deep below them. Maybe he missed the way it was just as much as you did.

"Fine," he said with a nod. "We can try. But let’s not promise each other anything, alright?”

A huge grin stretched across your face, threatening to take over your cheeks.

"Deal."

—

In the following months, as summer vacation approached, things almost did return to normal.

Neither of you forgot, but you were both getting over it. Moving on.

Ben finally went back to staying after school and watching some TV with the students, but he’d made it clear to you that you were not allowed to attend unless there were other students there. He made you swear.

Honestly, anything to get his friendship back. You didn’t have a ton of friends, and for that reason, his companionship was extremely important to you.

However, you’d begun to grow close to a boy who was a year ahead of you. His name was Jeremy. He was funny, nice, and really quite mature in comparison to most of the boys at this school. He didn’t really share many interests with you, but hey, it wasn’t that big of a deal to you. Opposites attract.

You told Ben about Jeremy, knowing he was in one of Ben’s classes.

Not really that he’d be interested in a schoolgirl’s love life, but you thought it may assure him that you had no further intentions of being intimate with him (you wouldn’t really object to it, but you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you were already working so hard to repair).

What you’d expected was a relieved response, perhaps something like, “That’s great!” or “I’m glad for you!”

But what you got was…puzzling.

He stared at you, eyebrows furrowed. His body suddenly went rigid and he frowned deeply. After a moment, he smiled at you and laughed a bit, but he seemed so uncomfortable and you wished you knew why.

"That’s nice," he said, but the tone of his voice made you think he thought it was anything but nice.

"What’s the matter?" you asked. Still smiling, he shook his head.

"It’s nothing. Listen, I have something I’ve gotta do," he said, and he quickly stood, leaving you with the other students.

Curious.

—

Two days later, you had been walking to your next class after getting out early and were passing by Professor Hornigold’s classroom, when you heard raised voices from behind the closed door.

Unable to make out what they were saying, you stepped closer and pressed your ear against the door. You were still unable to hear the conversation, but you could recognize the voices: Jeremy and Professor Hornigold.

Jeremy’s voice sounded upset, even a bit defensive; meanwhile, Ben’s voice sounded cross and frustrated.

The bell rang, and you sprang backwards from the door. It wouldn’t be a good idea to get caught trying to eavesdrop on a class…or argument. Playing it cool, you pretended you were just passing by.

The door to the classroom flew open, and Jeremy stormed past you, rage in his eyes.

"Class dismissed," Ben barked to the remaining students. They all jumped to their feet, feeling very awkward. Ben leaned on his desk, growling to himself. He looked up at the open doorway and saw you with a questioning look on your face.

You’d never seen him flinch so hard. Not even that night at the game.

You tore your eyes off of him and switched them to watch Jeremy’s retreating figure.

"Jeremy!" you called out to him. He kept walking, but you rushed to catch up.

Jeremy’s shoulders were stiff with anger.

"Hey," you said, touching his shoulder very gently. "I heard that argument in the classroom…sort of. I couldn’t hear what anyone was saying though."

"Professor fucking Hornigold’s got it out for me," he said in a low voice.

"The Professor?" you repeated him. "Why, what happened back there?"

You reached the junior’s lounge, and Jeremy threw down his bag with a loud ‘thump’.

"He got all mad at me and started tearing me a new one in front of the whole fucking class. And for what? Sharpening my pencil.”

…what the fuck?

"Professor Hornigold’s always been fair, that doesn’t make any sense," you wondered aloud. Jeremy only shrugged.

"He must hate me for whatever reason, then, because that’s what happened."

You stood pondering this new information. The second bell rang, and you jumped, realizing you were now late to your class.

On your way to the classroom, your mind raced with thoughts.

What in the world was going on with Ben?

—

A few days had passed since Professor Hornigold had lashed out at Jeremy. You hadn’t seen much of either of them since, but when you saw Ben next, you’d be sure to get the full story.

Like you’d told Jeremy, Ben was always fair with his students. There was just no way that he’d attacked Jeremy over something as trivial as sharpening his pencil during class.

It wasn’t until just after the last students and teachers had left (aside from yourself) that you’d finally seen him. He was in his classroom, going over what looked like tests or homework or something. Teacher stuff. You brought your fist to the door and knocked politely.

"Professor Hornigold?" you said announcing yourself. He looked up from his work, and when he saw it was you, he grew visibly more anxious. "May I come in?"

He thought about it for an instant, probably worrying that you were here to try and make a pass at him again, but nodded. As you approached his desk, he smiled nervously.

"Something I can help with?"

"Yes, I’m here about what happened with Jeremy a few days ago," you explained. He groaned, rubbing his temples delicately.

"That…" he said "I really don’t see how it’s any of your concern."

Oh, he’s pulling that card, huh?

"He said you scolded him for sharpening his pencil."

"I was in the middle of explaining a very important concept to the class and he disrupted that," Ben said in a matter-of-fact tone. He returned to grading classwork, clearly thinking that was the end of the matter.

He was dead wrong.

"Hornigold," you barked, reverting to using only his surname, "you can’t just yell at a student for sharpening his pencil."

"I can say what I want to my students," he said, voice dangerously low.

"How the fuck is he supposed to take notes in your class if he can’t even sharpen his fucking pencil without getting ripped apart?"

"Do not test me right now," he grumbled, his eyes flashed with absolute annoyance.

But oh no, you were letting this go.

You moved from in front of his desk so that you stood next to his chair and looked down at him.

"Professor, you need to apologize to him. He’s done nothing wrong."

Brown eyes burned into yours defiantly.

"Are you telling me what to do?" he said, challenging you.

But it was not a challenge you would back down from.

"Yes," you snapped.

Ben stood, chair flying backwards, and you felt a bit of fear creeping into you. He was much taller than you, and easily glared down at you. He advanced on you, and within seconds, he had you backed up against the wall. You started to regret this.

He slammed his palms onto the wall above your head, oozing masculinity.

"Think you can just walk in here and tell me how to run my classroom, do you?" he seethed. His voice rose with every syllable, and for a moment, you were a bit fearful of the situation you’d gotten yourself into.

But he surprised you when he swooped down and captured your lips with his own in a hungry and dominating kiss. You were shocked into stillness. Suddenly, you understood Ben’s attitude towards Jeremy.

When he pulled away, he was panting and the resentment in his eyes had melted away into a heated lust. You raised your brows as if to question him, but decided against it. Instead, you crumpled his shirt in your fist and yanked him forward again, initiating the burning kiss once more.

Ben did not hesitate to overpower you. He grabbed each of your wrists and held them above your head, and you let gladly let him as you hooked a leg around his waist and used it to pull his hips against your own. He moaned into your lips and you hummed, appreciating the vibrations of his voice. He reached behind you and gripped your rear, gave it a squeeze, and when you raised your legs to wrap them around his hips, he lifted you. Without breaking the searing hot kiss that he’d locked you in, he let you perch yourself on the edge of his desk before he cleared it of all books and papers with one wide sweep of his arm. Neither of you paid any attention to the large mess you’d now created; you only focused on each other.

You frantically unfastened the buttons of his white button-up to expose the smattering of chest hair underneath. You bit your lip.

Holy god, he had a perfect body.

Your hands slithered down to brush against his washboard abs, and you hummed in delight as you felt the small line of hair that led down into his pants. You moved to unzip them, but he batted your hands away.

"I think you’re a little overdressed," he said in a seductive tone. Immediately, you began to unbutton your own shirt and you kicked off your ugly black loafers that were required for your uniform. His fingers danced up your thighs and he hooked one finger under the band of your white thigh-high socks, then rolled them down your leg at an achingly slow pace. Meanwhile, you unzipped the zipper on the side of your skirt, and once he’d finished removing your socks, you lifted your back from the desk just long enough to let the skirt drop to the floor. You were now left in only your bra and panties, and he drank in the sight of you.

"God, you’re gorgeous," he muttered, before locking you in another kiss. This time, he spread the kiss onto your jaw and was slowly inching his way down your body. He peppered your body with lustful, nipping kisses, starting from your neck and making his way to your navel. He paid special attention to what part of your breasts that were exposed from your bra, and you moaned wantonly when his hands worked your panties off of your hips. You were exposed.

"God, Ben," you sighed and leaned back on your elbows. You wanted him to get his pants off and bury himself inside of you, and you wanted it now. But he had other plans.

He placed his middle finger at your entrance and slid it inside, working it back and forth. Your back arched and you whined from the pleasure, but as his thumb came in contact with your aching clit and circled it rapidly, you fell onto your back, your elbows no longer able to support you.

Your entire body felt like it was on fire in the best way. You hadn’t had sex since the first time with him that day after school, and your body had been craving activity since. He easily worked a second finger inside of you. You were so wet and so close to an orgasm, your entire body was tensing as it began to overcome your body.

"I’m gonna…" you moaned, but you couldn’t finish your sentence as every nerve in your being was attacked with a hard orgasm. Ben kept his fingers moving in and out, aiming to prolong it as long as he could while you writhed underneath his touch.

As your orgasm came to an end, your chest heaved up and down with deep breaths. Ben removed his fingers from you, and when you cracked your eyes open, you saw him sucking on each finger and eyeing you with an absolutely sinister look in his eye, like he wanted to destroy you.

And hell, if that very look didn’t make you want to be destroyed.

Finally, he unbuckled his belt and slid both pants and underwear down to reveal his raging erection. He wasted no time in placing it at your entrance, indulging himself by rubbing the head through your slick wetness a few times before he penetrated you. You both sighed in unison. With no hesitation, he immediately began thrusting quickly into you. The sounds of moans and the slapping of your hips filled the empty classroom.

Every thrust of his hips hit your sweet spot dead on, and with each stroke, your moaning rose in volume.

"Ben!" you cried, on the verge of orgasm once more. In response, he leaned down to lick and bite at your neck when you threw your head back. You felt his fingers teasing your clit once again, and you came around him. He grunted as you contracted around his cock, and after a few more rough and brutal thrusts, he came with a long growl against your neck.

The two of you stayed like that for a long time while you caught your breath. Ben had collapsed on top of you, and you enjoyed the feeling of his solid body draped over your own. You both relaxed, sweat-slicked bodies stuck together. He placed sensual, loving kisses on your cheek and trailed them down your jaw, and you hummed with complete satisfaction.

"Ben…what if someone finds out?" you inquire, as you feel a pang of worry over your relationship for the first time. Nuzzling your neck, he gave a tiny moan and answered.

"We’ll just have to be careful, won’t we?"

—

After yours and Ben’s “discussion”, you’d essentially dropped Jeremy like a sack of rocks. You’d felt a little bad at first, but you had something so much better than him now.

As summer vacation crept up, you and Ben began your torrid affair. After your second sexual encounter with him, he’d thrown caution to the wind and decided he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, so he shouldn’t even try to stop it.

His sexual appetite could be problematic, however.

There were several days where he approached you during one of the rare class periods that you both had off, dragged you into a classroom or a broom closet, and had his way with you (not that you minded).

But this almost got you caught by the principal once.

You and Ben had slipped into his classroom for some time alone, and just as you had begun to unbutton each other’s shirts, the doorknob rattled. You swiftly hopped off the desk and as the door opened, the both of you bent over and began to pick up books that had never really been on the floor.

"Everything alright in here?" the principal asked, his voice authoritative.

"Yes," you replied, "I’d just dropped my books is all." You smiled sweetly at the old man, who gave a cold, hard stare at both of you before he left and closed the door behind him.

Sighing in relief, you held your hand over your pounding heart.

"Y’know, when you said we’d be careful, Ben, this isn’t what I thought you had in mind."

"Not my fault you’re so irresistible," he countered as he pulled you closer.

—

The end of your sophomore year came and went. 

Summer vacation began, and to your displeasure, Ben was going to be out of the country for the first month.

"I’m going to the Caribbean," he’d told you. It was probably the happiest you’d ever seen him. "Mostly Nassau, but some other places too."

"You seem excited. You been there before?"

"Nope, but I’ve always wanted to vacation there, ever since I was a student your age."

"And you’ve never had the chance before now?”

"Nah, I was always working or dealing with some family issues," he explained, "but this year I finally got the chance, and I jumped on it."

He looked absolutely giddy, and you couldn’t be happier for him. It would just mean the first month of vacation would be very lonely for you.

"When are you coming back?" you asked and tried not to sound too desperate.

He carelessly shoved old term papers into his bag as he cleaned his desk.

"Around the beginning of July," he said. He continued to cram books and papers into his bag, but when he looked up at you, his face became confused.

You hadn’t noticed, but you had a very disappointed expression adorning your face. It wasn’t like you meant to look upset.

"What’s the matter?" he said.

You effortlessly wiped your expression, and replaced it with a huge smile.

"Nothing!" you said, and made sure your voice was brimming with happiness.

Ben, unfortunately, saw right through that bullshit. He put his supplies down and walked over to you. His hands cupped your face, he glanced around him to make sure no one was watching, and when he was sure you were alone, he touched his lips to yours in a tender kiss. He released you, and grinned down at you.

"I’ll be back before you know it," he assured you. With closed eyes, you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. You pressed your ear to his chest.

"Have fun. Or else," you said playfully. He laughed, and you could feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest. He let you go, and as you turned to leave, he stopped you.

"Hold on," he said. He held out his hand and twitched his fingers.

"What?"

"Give me your phone."

You pulled your iPhone from your pocket and placed it in his outstretched hand. He played with it for a moment, then handed it back to you. On the screen was your contact list, and there, at the very top, was his number labeled "Ben Hornigold".

"There, now I can…text you while I’m gone,” he said with a mischievous smile.

…oh. OH.

He meant sexting.

"Yeeeah, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. If anyone saw the texts we’d be busted, and supposedly they have a way of viewing even the deleted stuff," you say. "If we’re just texting normally, it’s fine; no laws against teachers being friends with a student."

He pouted in the most adorable way.

"…but we could use SnapChat."

His face contorted in a look of complete confusion.

"What the hell is ‘SnapChat’?" he said as if the word tasted strange on his tongue. You rapidly sent a text to your older sister, asking her to send a snap so you could demonstrate to a ‘friend’, then opened the app on your phone.

"I’ll show you."

After a few moments of waiting, your sister got back to you. She had obliged, and you had the snap waiting to be opened.

"You can send people pictures and videos. The catch is, you can only view them for a few seconds."

You opened the snap, showing Ben your sister’s smiling face.

"Then," you said, pointing to the small timer in the corner of the screen, "once this timer gets to zero, the picture is deleted. Forever."

With wide eyes, he stared at you incredulously.

"That’s amazing," he said. "How do I get that?"

"Just download it from the app store, it doesn’t cost anything," you explained.

Outside the classroom window, a car honked its horn. Stepping to the window, you see your mother waving at you, ready to drive you home.

"There’s my ride," you say, and you give Ben one final hug and a kiss on his cheek.

"I’ll see you in July," he called out to you as you left.


	2. Chapter 2

June was an incredibly slow and boring month for you. As you’d said before, you didn’t have a ton of friends, so there wasn’t a lot of people for you to hang out with.

You decided to get a part time job so you could actually have some money instead of mooching off of your parents for anything you needed. You were astounded by how easy it was.

An independently-owned bookstore within walking distance from your house had hired you. It was probably the most amazing place you’d ever been to. It’s been around for as long as you can remember. The second you stepped inside, you were greeted by the nostalgic scent of books.

The owner was a sweet old lady named Mrs. Jenkins, who’d become too old to run the place by herself, and there’d been a “help wanted” sign up for quite some time. For reasons unknown, she hadn’t been able to find a suitable person to fit the job, but only a few days after you’d spoken to her about the position, she’d called you and informed you that you were a perfect fit. Your job was mostly organizing and shelving the books, though on occasion, you’d manage the register.

The place didn’t get a lot of business, so you found yourself with plenty of spare time.

Often times, you’d considered taking this time to send a message or two to Ben. But you never did, because you were afraid it would bother him.

The first message he’d sent you since you’d parted ways on that last day of school, he sent you a picture of the long line at the airport security and said “ugh”.

But you hadn’t heard anything from him since. Most likely it meant he was enjoying his vacation in Nassau, which you were glad about. You just missed him horribly, was all.

A day or two later, you had been reorganizing the books (some bratty little kids had come in and messed up the order) when your phone buzzed. You pulled your phone from your tight jean pocket and were happy to see that Ben had sent you a SnapChat. You gasped quite dramatically in excitement and opened it.

The picture, which lasted ten seconds, was of him lounging in a beach chair with a pair of sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. You saw the waistband of what must have been his swimming trunks, but he was completely unclothed from the waist up. It was giving you a spectacular view of his toned, muscular chest. It was captioned with a simple, "Miss me?"

"Yes!" you whispered, though you knew he couldn’t hear you. You practically drooled over the enticing picture. If only you could just reach through the phone and touch him! But the timer had run out, and the picture disappeared from your view.

You turned on the camera and made sure Mrs. Jenkins wasn’t around to see you. Once the coast was confirmed to be clear, you tugged the neck of your shirt down so it was exposing your cleavage and just a glimpse of your black lace bra. Your finger tapped on the button and took the picture. Perfect. You quickly captioned it with "maybe", and hit send.

You didn’t get a response until a few hours later, but it was well worth the wait, and it sent you into fits of laughter that you had to contain.

All it was was a very blurred picture with the caption, "headed for the airport!".

You knew he was joking of course. But you wished he wasn’t.

—

It was about halfway through June when Ben started sending you the dorkiest fucking pictures you’d ever seen in your life.

One was a picture of a museum entirely about the pirates who once scoured the islands back in the 18th century. He followed the picture with a text saying, "OMG PIRATE SHIT" in all caps. About an hour later, he sent you another, presumably in some part of the museum, of him in the stocks looking very sad.

"They’ve got me!"

Scoffing, you replied.

"Well, you must have done something to deserve it."

"First of all how dare you"

You laughed loudly at that, until Mrs. Jenkins gave you a playful yet stern look, and you got back to work.

—

Your days off were particularly uneventful. With no one to hang out with and your parents off at work, the only thing you had to do on such days were lie in bed and stare at the ceiling or sit on the couch and stare at the wall.

Okay, that was a bit of a lie. Your mother had given you a television for your room on your past birthday, and your father gave you a DVD player to go with it. Since your parents bought movies all the time, you had quite the collection. So there was always that.

And there was an old-school arcade about twenty minutes from your house. Now that you had a job, you could actually afford to do fun things like that.

But what fun are movies with no one to watch them with? And to go to the arcade by yourself…sounded lonely.

Sometimes you would walk to get yourself food because you were too lazy to take the time to actually prepare whatever you had in the house. But once, on the way, you heard a laugh that sounded just like Ben’s and feel a pang of longing and loneliness that pierced your gut like a sword, and you returned home with your food and ate sadly.

You really couldn’t wait for him to come back.

—

It was July 2nd when Ben returned without warning.

You woke up around 9 AM. Your parents had left for work already, and you had the house to yourself; though you wouldn’t be staying much longer as you had work.

The bookstore, being independently owned, didn’t get as much business as, say, a Barnes and Noble would, so there was no pressure for the owner to open at a later hour. With that hour being 10:30 AM, it gave you plenty of time to shower, dress, and groom yourself so you were presentable.

The shower was heavenly. It was a hot, sunny morning, so you had set the water to be cool, but not cold, and it was the epitome of refreshing after a night of lying in bed sweating your ass off. Woke you right up, too.

Drying your hair was not a concern for you. It was too hot to use the hair dryer, and you preferred to let it air dry anyway. You slipped into a simple pair of denim shorts and a thin gray t-shirt. The bookstore had no required uniform for employees, and the dress code was quite loose. As long as it covered what needed to be covered, you were good.

Your makeup was minimal. Wasn’t much point in going all out of you were just going to sweat under the sun and make it run down your face. Just some light foundation, but your face was always clear, so you didn’t really need it. But you liked it.

By 10 AM, you were ready for work.

As you slid your favorite black pair of converse on, you heard the faint hum of a car engine. It stopped, the car door opened and slammed shut, and you heard the jingle of keys. Had one of your parents forgotten something and returned home? You took wide strides to the window and flicked back the sheer white curtains to see.

To your surprise and delight, Ben was there. He leaned casually against his silver car, his fingers tapped away at his phone. You assumed he was texting you; probably was going to say something cheesy and predictable like "look out your window". Too bad for him, you’d beat him to it.

Before he could even finish typing, you began to type a message of your own. In all caps, you sent him a message saying "PREPARE YOURSELF". You almost tripped down the stairs, you were moving so fast, but once you reached the bottom, you went flying out of the door. Ben looked up, startled by the sound of your door busting open. Just then, his phone buzzed. He must have only just gotten your message, but he had no time to read it as you hopped over the porch railing, closed the distance between you, and jumped into his arms. He laughed - god, you’d missed that laugh - and hugged you tightly.

"When did you get back?" you said with your face happily nuzzled in his chest. You inhaled his scent deeply and felt relaxed immediately.

"Let’s see…" he mumbled, checking his wristwatch. "Half an hour ago."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. Came over here to see you first thing," he said as he released you from the hug. "Didn’t even stop at home to drop off my luggage."

You looked squinting at the back windows of his car, and sure enough, behind the tinted windows were two suitcases.

"Awww, you did miss me, Ben.”

He grinned down at you, but moved his head backward as you stood on your toes to kiss him.

"Woah," he said, "what about your parents? They might see."

You scoffed.

"They’re already at work, and my older sister is on a trip out of state. I’m the only one here," you assured him.

Why was he only careful when for once, they didn’t need to be?

Satisfied with your answer, he wormed his fingers into your still-damp hair and tugged your head upward to meet him.

That was the first time you’d kissed Ben with tongue. First time you’d kissed anyone with tongue. As it was a new experience, you were glad to let him take the lead and show you the ropes.

It was a strange sensation, feeling another’s tongue in your mouth. It was…both pleasant and unpleasant. Unpleasant because of the texture and the fact that you couldn’t forget what you’d learned last year in health class about how many germs were exchanged each time you kissed. But pleasant because this was the most intimate kind of kiss that one could share with another, and the idea made your heart quicken.

Just as your hands began to wander, he parted from you with a longing stare.

"Unfortunately, I can’t stay long," he explained, "I’ve got a meeting with the other teachers today at ten."

At ten? Hadn’t that already passed? Sure enough, you checked your phone and it read 10:06 AM.

"That’s alright, I have to be at work soon anyway. But Ben, it’s past ten already. Aren’t you late?"

He laughed sheepishly.

"I wanted to see you, though."

You rolled your eyes.

"I appreciate that, but you could have seen me any time after your meeting. What’s the meeting for anyway?"

"Discussing next year’s classes. We gotta see which classes have enough students that qualify, and the classes that don’t have enough get cut."

Ah. Sometimes you forgot that being a teacher would probably require some sort of work.

Wait, that gave you an idea.

"What classes are you gonna be teaching this year?" you asked him. He pondered the question, probably drawing up a list in his mind.

"Literature, couple general English classes. I think I might also be helping out with the Drama class. Why?"

"Because…I want to take one of your classes."

You really hoped he wouldn’t say no. He wasn’t the only English teacher at the school, he could have very easily just made it so that you were in another teacher’s English class. Would he think it was too weird to have a class with a student he was fucking? Would he think you’d be a distraction? Or maybe he’d think he would be the distraction?

You were so busy worrying about what his answer would be, you almost didn’t hear it when he said it.

"I’m sure we can work something out," he said with an expression that could only be described as ‘ultimate joy that he was trying to conceal to look cool but was doing a poor job of it’.

"Really?" you said in disbelief.

"Absolutely. I’m sure you’re qualified for at least one."

You bounced up and down, giggling. When he raised an eyebrow at your childish antics, you composed yourself.

"Right. Well, I should probably get to work now," you told him. 

"Where do you work?" he inquired, "I’ll drive you there."

"Ben, no. You’re already late as it is!" you scolded. "Besides, it’s not far, and I like walking."

"You sure?"

"Positive. Now get going or the teachers will probably be pissed."

Ben opened the car door, sat inside, and started the engine. It seemed to be a relatively new car, so the engine was smooth and quiet.

"I’ll call you later?" he offered. You nodded.

"I might not be out of work, but sure."

As he turned his car around and drove off in the direction of the school, you felt your stomach do several flips. You turned and began your short walk to work with a grin threatening to split your cheeks.

Now that Ben was back, maybe your summer wouldn’t be so boring.

—

It was nothing short of a blessing that the bookstore was air conditioned. As the day went by, it only got sunnier outside and temperatures rose.

Now that it was summer, the store was getting more customers. They were mostly students who were doing some summer reading shopping, although some just came to escape the heat. You spent a good chunk of your day helping students find their books and then taking it straight to the register. A lot of the books got disorganized because of that.

When you’d gotten the chance to reorganize them, you were humming gleefully to yourself and there was a bounce to your step. Something that did not slip past Mrs. Jenkins unnoticed.

"Well, someone’s cheery today," she said. Her voice had that distinctive, wavering quality that a lot of the elderly had in their voices.

You nodded.

"I had a good morning."

"Get a visit from your boyfriend?"

You stopped putting the books away and remained still for a moment. When you turned your head to look at her, Mrs. Jenkins has a sly, knowing smirk on her weathered face. You blushed furiously.

"It’s not like that," you said as you turned away to hide your face. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mrs. Jenkins smiling triumphantly.

"Ah, but there is a man, then?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. You returned to the task of shelving the books, for most of which you had to stand on your toes to reach.

"Well, yeah," you replied, voice strained with the effort it took to reach the higher shelf. "But I wouldn’t really call him my boyfriend."

Mrs. Jenkins eyed you thoughtfully before she continued speaking.

"Then what would you call him?" she inquired.

You wouldn’t call him your boyfriend because he wasn’t your boyfriend. What you had going with Ben at the time was more of a fuck-buddy kind of deal. Or, you supposed, it was probably closer to friends-with-benefits. Most of your relationship was based on sex, not romance. And it wasn’t a bad thing at all; at least not to you.

But you couldn’t tell sweet old Mrs. Jenkins that.

However, at the same time, you felt that your relationship with Ben was far more complicated than that. You didn’t know how to explain it. You knew there were no immediately apparent romantic feelings, but you felt it was more intimate than just sex.

It wasn’t until a few seconds later that you realized Mrs. Jenkins was still watching you curiously and waiting for your answer.

So you gave her one.

"I’m really not sure."

—

It was nearing 8 PM, which was about when the bookstore closed and you got out of work. It was an easy job with very little physical activity, but it still left you tired at the end of the day. Perhaps it was due to the quiet, library-like environment the bookstore had and it was putting you to sleep.

You just had to finish cataloging a few more newly arrived books, document the day’s sales, and you’d be done.

The bell that was hung above the door chimed, indicating a customer’s arrival. Who in the world could be coming in so near closing time? You supposed it didn’t matter, and you went to see if they needed assistance. As you emerged from the shelves, however, you could see familiar broad shoulders and a short black ponytail.

"Be-" you stopped yourself before you could call him by his first name. Mrs. Jenkins was still around somewhere, and if she heard you calling him by his first name, she may grow suspicious. "Professor Hornigold?"

The man turned his head, and sure enough, it was him.

Ben’s entire face lit up with surprise and delight at seeing you, and it made your heart stop. He was so criminally beautiful it was almost sickening.

"Well, aren’t you a sight for salty eyes?" he said, striding over to you with a sway in his gait. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here."

"No kidding?" he said with a stupidly pretty smile on his face. "Well what a coincidence. I worked here when I was a student as well."

Just then, Mrs. Jenkins appeared from behind the counter.

"Is that little Benji?" she cooed. You gave him a look, and he glared at you.

"Benji?" you said, trying to hold in a giggle.

"Not a word," he hissed under his breath before putting on a smile and turning around. He held his arms open for Mrs. Jenkins.

"It’s been too long!" she laughed. It was actually touching to see them. They broke the hug and Mrs. Jenkins turned to you.

"Benji, this is-"

"We’ve met," he interrupted. "She’s a student at the school I teach at."

Mrs. Jenkins grinned widely.

"What a small world," she said.

"More of a small town,” you replied. It was true, and because of it, most people knew each other around the place.

A few minutes passed, and while Ben caught up with Mrs. Jenkins, you returned to shelving the last of the books.

Once you’d finished, you pulled your phone from your pocket to check the time. The clock read 8:07, meaning you were cleared to go home. You removed the light blue lanyard that signified you were an employee and not a customer and tucked it into your pocket. You made your way to the door.

"I’m headed home, Mrs. Jenkins," you called as you walked past them. "Ill see you in the morning."

The old woman smiled and waved, but Ben walked closer to you.

"I’ll drive you home," he offered. "It’s not safe for you to be walking home by yourself at this hour."

"I walk myself home every day, and I’ve been fine before," you told him, but he shook his head.

"I insist," he said with a wink.

"What a kind man you’ve grown up to be, Benji," she cooed. He rolled his eyes at the nickname, making sure he angled his head so she wouldn’t see.

"I’ll catch up with you later, Mrs. Jenkins," he promised, and led you out of the bookstore and began to walk you to his car.

He looped his arm around you and slid it down the line of your waist, eager to put his hands on you, but you still couldn’t get over one thing.

"Oh, Benji, you’re such a gentleman!” you sighed jokingly. “Driving a girl home!”

"Noooo!" he groaned, "Not you too."

You laughed at his discomfort, but as you approached his car, the musky, masculine smell that wafted off him made you clench your legs. He fiddled with his car keys, and you rubbed his shoulders through his thin blue t-shirt.

"What do you say we hop in the back and take care of little Benji?” you purred as you kissed his shoulder blade. You slid your hand down his torso, stopped at his groin, and gave it a gentle squeeze. His breath quickened, and he flipped you around to pin you to the car.

"As long as you don’t call me or my cock Benji,” he said with a kiss to your jaw.

At that point, you were so aroused you didn’t care what it took to get him in that back seat, you would do it.

"Deal," you said, and opened the car door behind you. He offered to let you in first, but you laughed and gave him a gentle shove until he got the hint and climbed in before you. He laid himself across both backseats, and once he was settled, you crawled in after.

It was surprisingly spacious for such a small car, and you weren’t complaining. It allowed enough wiggle room for you to slide your jeans past your hips and to your ankles. Ben was already pitching a tent at the sight of your panties.

"Someone’s eager," you said, and rubbed his growing erection through his pants. He gasped and bit his lip. God, that was so attractive.

Originally, you had planned to get him naked and take him right there in the car, but there was something you’d always wanted to try, and now seemed a perfect opportunity.

"Scoot up a little," you ordered, and he obeyed without a word until he was leaning his back against the closed car door. You unbuttoned and unzipped his pants to tug down his boxers just enough for his member to spring out.

It was getting uncomfortably hot, so you leaned back and pulled your t-shirt off, revealing the bra that you’d teased him with while he was in the Caribbean. Ben grabbed your hips, thinking you were going to straddle and ride him, but you took his wrists in your hands and moved them away. He raised a brow at you.

"Hold on," you whispered, crawling backwards until your face was parallel with his groin. He caught on to your intentions easily (not that it was difficult to figure out).

"You don’t have to-"

"I want to,” you assured him. “But I’ve never done this before, so I might not be very good.”

Without giving him time to respond, you took him in your hand and licked a long, slow stripe along the underside. You took special care not to apply much pressure, because you didn’t know what he liked yet, and you didn’t want to seem too eager. As soon as your tongue came in contact with his skin, he threw his head back and hissed through his teeth.

You jumped at the sound, removing your tongue and looking up at him with concern.

"I’m sorry, did that not feel good?" you asked, voice timid. You didn’t know why. From what you’d heard, when it came to oral sex, just about anything felt good as long as you avoided using teeth. You supposed it startled you.

"It felt fucking amazing," Ben said, his voice deep and full of lust.

"Oh…I’ll do it again then."

You repeated the action, only this time, once you reached the end, you took his tip in your mouth and swirled your tongue around the head. He bucked his hips, forcing himself further past your lips, and you whimpered in surprise. He cursed and apologized.

"Sorry, sorry, it was a reflex."

"I don’t mind," you said. And you meant it.

When you looked down, a large bead of precum had formed at his tip. You swiped your tongue in the slight divot. It was salty, and not exactly what you would call pleasant, but you ignored it.

Instead, you rolled your eyes up the line of his body and focused on his blissful expression as you sucked and licked him. Your hand slipped past your waistband, and you began to stroke your clit delicately with your middle finger.

Each time you moaned, the vibration must have produced something extremely pleasurable for him. Ben let out a moan of his own, hitting his head lightly on the glass window. He blinked his eyes open and fixed them on your own.

When a lock of hair fell and stuck itself to your lip, he brushed it away and tucked it behind your ear. Instead of falling back at his side, his palm remained resting on your cheek, even as they hollowed around him. His fingers rooted themselves into your hair, and as you continued to pleasure him, his grip tightened.

You yourself were growing closer and closer to orgasm as well. Your breathing became quick and shallow, and your moaning got louder and louder.

The vibrations combined with the heat of your mouth proved too much for him, and he began to cry out.

"Stop…I’m gonna…"

He moved his hands to remove himself from your lips, but you slapped them away.

When he came, you had prepared yourself. He contracted and shot into your mouth, almost shouting your name. It was hot, and not as salty as what you’d tasted before, but you definitely tasted salt. Not a single drop escaped your lips.

Only seconds later, you came, whimpering around him and furiously kneading your fingers, trying to make it last.

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, and as he softened in your mouth, you withdrew with a soft pop. You took your hands out of your jeans, inhaling sharply as your finger slid over your overly sensitive pearl on its way out.

You sat down on the car seat, trying to regain your breath while he did the same. He heaved himself up, leaned over, and kissed you, long and sensually. When you parted, he pressed his forehead to yours and you laughed quietly.

"Come on," you said, grabbing your shirt and lazily putting it back on. "I’m usually home by now. My mother’s probably wondering where I am."


End file.
